The students, already caught up in the frenzy of Pete's destiny-laden speeches, started tightening their grips on their swords and staves. Their eyes were practically glowing with the idea of stepping into the legends themselves, ready to prove their worth.
But then, from the back, Emelia stepped forward. Her golden-green hair shimmered under the red glow of the barrier, the elven guards falling in behind her like silent sentinels. Her voice was calm, but there was a razor-sharp edge to it.
"Hero or not, you cannot drag these students into this madness. If you must fight, then fight alone. They'll only get in the way of the guards—and die for nothing."
Her words sliced through the air like cold steel. For a moment, the crowd hesitated, the momentum faltering.
Pete, however, didn't flinch. His eyes were burning with that signature fire, his holy sword raised high, glittering with righteous fury.
"No. They are strong," he declared, his voice ringing with theatrical bravado. "Together, we will turn the tide of this battle! They are comrades, not burdens—and I will not hide them like fragile glass."
The students, who had just started to cool under Emelia's clear-headed logic, now bristled. A few faces flushed red with pride, anger bubbling up at the elf's dismissal of them. One bold voice shouted, "We're not weak!" And the next thing you knew, the chant was starting again—"With the Hero! With the Hero!"
Emelia's jaw tightened. Her emerald eyes flashed, but her composure remained. Her voice cut through the noise like a whip.
"What is the point of strength if you're dead before you can use it?!"
The crowd quieted, the weight of her words sinking in—at least for a moment.
But Pete, smirking like he owned the world, lifted his sword with all the drama he could muster, his tone dripping with arrogance.
"Then come with us, Elf. Unless… elves are all talk."
The insult landed hard, like a slap in the face. The elven guards behind Emelia bristled immediately, their grips on their weapons tightening, fury flashing in their eyes. But they held back, biting their tongues for now—after all, Pete was the Hero chosen by the goddess.
Emelia's posture stiffened. She lowered her voice, cold as ice and laced with fury.
"Very well. I'll join you. But hear me now—if you drag these students into this madness, you will guarantee their safety. Not a single one of them dies."
Pete scoffed, shaking his head like he was the one holding all the cards, his grin cocky as he waved grandly toward the students, his holy sword gleaming in the red light.
"This is the battlefield. Death is always the price. But don't worry, Emelia Vel'Faera. I won't let anything happen to those too weak to protect themselves."
His gaze lingered on the girls among the students, a look too close to a smirk, his words dripping with patronization rather than reassurance.
The students, too blinded by the idea of being "protected by the Hero," cheered even louder, their spirits soaring. But Emelia's fists clenched, her teeth grinding as her anger boiled beneath the surface. She wanted to scream at all of them for being so foolish—but instead, she bit it back and forced her words through gritted teeth.
"Fine. Let's go."
Her guards exchanged glances—fire in their eyes, but unwavering in their obedience.
The students, all fired up and ready for battle, started putting on what could only be called ceremonial armor. Breastplates decked out with family crests shone brightly, helmets with sparkling gems, and robes that looked like they'd rip if they brushed against a bush hung proudly over their shoulders.
The mages were the most extra, strutting around in flowy robes covered in gold and silver stitching—stuff that wouldn't stop a sword but definitely screamed I'm a mage.
Even Pete, who'd been all about grand speeches a minute ago, stopped and stared at them for a second, wide-eyed. For a split second, the whole battle-ready vibe fell apart—he looked more confused than pumped.
'Is this really what these nobles considered prep for a fight? ' But before he could dwell on it, he quickly shook it off, raising his holy sword high to keep the hype going.
But then something nagged at him. He scanned the gathering crowd of eager students and realized two faces were missing. Lucy—yes, she was nowhere to be seen, but she never truly caught his interest. What truly stung was the absence of one person: Ace Thornevale.
Pete's jaw tightened. His moment to strike had come.
He raised his voice, letting it carry through the camp:
"Look! Do you see? Ace Thornevale isn't even here! At a time like this, when danger surrounds us—he hides! What better proof do you need of his cowardice?!"
He expected laughter. He expected agreement, sneers, and nods. He expected them to shout alongside him, to curse the so-called Thornevale heir for being too afraid to fight.
But instead… silence.
Not a single chuckle. Not a single whisper. The students shifted awkwardly, pretending they hadn't heard him, their eyes darting away like Pete wasn't even there. Nobody was going to laugh at Thornevale. Nobody was going to poke that hornet's nest. The name alone was too dangerous to mess with—especially now, with Thornevale guards surrounding them all.
Pete's stomach churned. The weight of the silence pressed down on him. And just as he started to feel like he was losing his grip on the situation, Catherine stepped forward.
She cut through the stillness like a knife through flesh, her eyes blazing with a raw, bitter fury. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
She said, her voice steady but laced with venom. "He's right. Ace is a coward. He hides behind the weight of his family name while people like us bleed!"
Her words cut deeper than Pete could've imagined. The students were watching now, eyes locked on her, the tension thickening in the air like a storm cloud ready to burst.
Catherine took a step closer, her voice rising as her fury boiled over. "Do you all even know what it's like to be shackled to someone like him? To have your future ripped away because of a meaningless engagement?"
The camp stilled. All eyes turned toward her.
Catherine's voice rose, trembling but venomous.
"I was chosen by the Goddess herself!" Catherine's voice trembled with a mixture of pain and righteous fury. "The Saintess! The one meant to heal, to lead with hero... But because of this cursed bond with Thornevales, I was denied the Church. I was denied my calling!"
She took another step forward, her eyes wild with anguish. "My life... My entire future...Wasted because I am chained to a man who does nothing but cower behind his guards!"
Her words sliced through the tension, each one sharper than the last.
The students shifted uneasily. Some lowered their eyes, others looked between one another with discomfort.
Catherine's fury was raw, but her target was one no one dared openly side against.
They were trapped. To agree with her meant opposing Thornevales. To deny her meant insulting the Saintess candidate chosen by the Goddess.
The students were caught between two cliffs, each more perilous than the last. The tension was suffocating. Every student was now standing on a knife's edge, wondering which side would win out. And as they teetered on that fragile precipice, none of them were sure whether they'd fall with Catherine or with the Thornevales.
No one dared speak, no one dared move—until the silence cracked under the sound of footsteps.
Step.Step.Step.
Every student froze, heads snapping toward the source.
From one of the tents, Ace emerged. His white hair caught the faint glow of the barrier stones, his white eyes glinting like steel in moonlight. At his hip, his sword was buckled firmly, but his hand rested calmly on its hilt. He wasn't rushing. He wasn't shouting. He simply walked forward. And that was enough to smother the air itself.
Catherine, who moments ago was spitting venom, stiffened. Her lips curled into a scowl as she forced her voice out louder—perhaps to drown out the shiver creeping up her spine.
"What? You think you can silence me, Ace? I am a princess! What can you do to me? Don't think for a second I'll bow my head just because of some meaningless engagement!"
Her words echoed bravely, but her feet shifted back without her realizing it. Each step Ace took toward her pressed on her chest like an invisible weight. Her heart raced. Fear—just a flicker of it—sparked beneath her defiance.
And then Ace was only a stride away.
Before Catherine could stumble back further, a figure stepped between them.
Pete. His holy sword gleamed faintly, his jaw set, his eyes blazing with the self-righteous fire of a hero.
"If you want to do anything to her, you'll have to go through me!"
The words rang with conviction, but they barely had time to settle in the air.
Because Ace's fist moved.
CRACK!
The punch slammed across Pete's face, cutting him off mid-breath. His body lifted off his feet and crashed into the dirt with a heavy thud.
The world spun around him, ears ringing with a shrill whine. His vision blurred, only faintly catching Ace's figure standing against Catherine.
Pete's lips moved, but no sound came out. His heroic protest was swallowed by silence.
Ace, calm as ever, leaned in just enough for Catherine to hear his voice.
"What you call a shackle… is your greatest freedom. The power, the status, the shield you've had—it was all from Thornevale."
His gaze sharpened, his tone colder.
"But since you don't want it, I'll grant your wish. I'll annul our engagement. I'll send the letter to my father. From this moment, you're free from me."
Catherine's eyes widened, her anger faltering into shock. Her lips parted, trembling, unable to decide if she should laugh, scream, or cry.
Ace's voice dropped lower, cutting sharp as a blade.
"But remember this. If you ever again insult me, or Thornevale… the consequences will be yours to bear. And they won't be light."
The camp was dead silent.
Catherine's chest heaved, her hands trembling at her sides. Emotions crashed through her—anger, relief, disbelief—and finally something she hadn't felt in years: hope.
"Y–You're serious? Truly?" she asked, her voice a whisper breaking into the still night.
Ace gave the slightest nod.
That was all it took.
A brilliant smile bloomed on her face, wide and unrestrained. For the first time in years, she felt unshackled. Free. She almost laughed aloud, her body shaking with the weight lifted from her.
Behind her, the students could only stare. Some pale, some stunned, all breathless.
And Pete—still on the ground, ears ringing, head pounding—saw none of it clearly. Only the blurry silhouette of Ace standing tall, and the happiness of Catherine.